Into the Open
by Angel St. Mathew
Summary: This is the second and final half of my Hey ArnoldReign of Fire story. For those of you who haven't read the first one, you'll want to do that before starting this or I promise nothing will make sense. Further notes inside.
1. Helga

A/N: The first installment of the second part of this story. I will warn you now that, since there is obviously not a lot going on outside the tunnel, this story is a bit slow in the beginning. I did what I could to keep it interesting, but many of these first chapters will just be the group traveling. However, this first chapter does have a little...how would you say..H/A action? Very brief, but still pretty intense. Hope you enjoy it, my two or three loyal fans.

Hellerick: I finally was able to read your last review (my computer's been down for some time). I know what you mean about the Sewer King, and you were right on the money when you said you thought he might not fit in. That was my same thought. I was trying to come up with more ways to draw this story closer to the actual show, and I'm just not having a lot of luck with that. It's very different, I know that. I no longer hope for rave reviews or anything. I'm just going to post the next part so that I don't leave people hanging (I hate that). Personally, I love reading stories that branch out from the norm and give a different view of the people we _thought_ we knew, but I know most peope aren't strange like me (I'm also an English Major...that doesn't help). Anyway...

Thanks for all the advice and help, I really appreciate your honest criticism, you're the best!

And now…

Chapter 1: Helga

Arnold scribbled hurriedly in his new notebook, balancing a jar candle on one folded knee. The large room in which he sat hummed lightly with the peaceful breathing - and the occasional snoring - of the small band of people sleeping all around him.

The room was the untouched basement of a demolished house, which happened to be furnished and carpeted quite nicely, so each couch and chair had been claimed for sleeping. Arnold had been a little slower in calling dibs, but he didn't mind sleeping on the floor. After two years he was quite used to it and almost preferred it. The fact that the carpet was pleasantly soft was a nice plus, though.

They'd taken shelter during the night in many different houses as they made their way through the suburbs of the city, but the houses had all been devoid of anything useful or edible. This basement, however, had remained so well concealed within the ruins of the house above it that everything inside had remained intact and untouched for all these years.

This is where Arnold had found his new notebook, as well as two others, numerous pens and pencils, and a hooded sweatshirt. There was a laundry room in the basement, and though some of the clothes were moth-eaten there were still quite a few things that were wearable and so were distributed among the travelers.

That sweatshirt was the first new, or relatively new, pair of clothing he'd had since they'd gone into hiding. It was a little big and smelled a bit musty, but Arnold loved the feeling of the heavy cotton against his thin frame. He'd also gotten a new pair of socks, an item he'd been in dire need of. It was just a shame he hadn't found any pants. As a child, he never thought he'd ever be sorry about growing taller as he got older.

"Psst, Arnold?"

Arnold glanced up and saw Gerald a few feet away, lounging rather unbecomingly in a recliner.

"What are you doin', man?"

"Just writing some stuff down." Arnold whispered.

"Well, go to sleep. This is probably the last nice place we'll be stayin' at for a while."

"I know, I just want to get this down while it's fresh in my mind."

Gerald sighed. "Alright, but make sure to put out that light when you're done, it's keepin' me awake." And with that, he shifted over and the conversation ended.

Arnold smiled at his friends back, then finished the last sentence and put the notebook away. He blew out the candle, set it aside where it wouldn't get knocked over and spill hot wax, and then laid down on the squishy carpeting, more than ready for a good night's sleep.

Arnold looked all around him with a sense of awe and joy. He was sitting on a patch of soft ground amidst a sprawling landscape of thick foliage and the most gigantic trees he'd ever seen. It reminded him of the dense, uncivilized jungles he'd seen only pictures of. And the jungle, in turn, reminded him of the parents he'd never really known, though they'd always seemed like a part of him.

Sunlight leaked between the canopy of trees and brushed vines and other foliage on its way down, creating a mosaic of light upon the ground. Arnold knew that he was dreaming. He knew not only because he felt clean and healthy and sensed no fear of danger, but more so because he found himself sitting in the middle of a jungle and there wasn't a single hell-spawn insect within eye- or ear-shot.

He sighed and leaned back against the mossy tree. Being in a place like this had undoubtedly been one of his greatest unrealized dreams for a couple of reasons. On one hand, ever since reading his parents journal he'd fantasized about going to the jungle to locate the Green-Eye people and finding his parents.  
In addition to this, he knew deep down that he was extremely wild at heart. Growing up in the city, he'd always been able to make the best of his situation, but he often felt similar to a fish out of water.

Sitting here among these sights and smells created solely by his imagination, he found himself wishing that he could stay there. It was almost like heaven.

Almost.

The very moment he realized that something very crucial to his happiness was missing, he immediately sensed a presence nearby and turned. Standing mere yards away, bathed in golden sunbeams and dressed in a simple, fitted sundress, was the one who gave him strength on this journey. The one who'd shown him that he was still needed and loved. The one he was fighting for, and would always be fighting for. His wife, Helga.

Her smile was captivating as she came to kneel before him, and she placed one hand gently on his cheek. Her face was flushed with color and light, and her eyes shone with love for him. She said nothing, only leaned in close to him, and he didn't stay her from doing so. Her sweet scent overwhelmed him and he pulled her into a gentle kiss. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his hair, then to the back of his head as she seemed to grow more eager, and in seconds Arnold pulled her bodily into his lap as their kiss deepened to a more passionate form.

_I love you…I love you…_The simple, yet life-altering words drifted through his mind spontaneously, being that he was unable to actually form coherent words at present.

"Arnold…"

Helga's voice drifted across his subconscious, but hers was not a tone he would have expected. Her gentle voice vibrated with a mixture of terror, panic, and…remorse?

The hum of her voice and the impression it left him with occurred within a millisecond's time, and it sent a surge of panic through him. His eyes snapped open and in that very moment Helga was gone, vanished from within his passionate grasp.

In addition to this shock, Arnold was met by a dark, foreboding jungle with the trees pitching and swaying in the edges of a coming storm. As his sense of immediate danger went from zero to sixty, his panic kicked into overdrive and he found that he was unable to breath.

Arnold's eyes snapped open and he lurched up into a sitting position, gasping for air. A stream of panicky thoughts flowed through his head, and he willed his heart rate to slow before it broke right through his ribcage. He dropped his head in his hands, trying desperately to calm his nerves.

_What in the world_…

After a few minutes, when the cold sweat had dried and his heart rate returned to a relatively normal pace, Arnold sighed and laid back down, though his eyes remained wide open.

_So much for a good night's sleep,_ he thought wearily.


	2. Day 9

Chapter 2: Day 9

The group walked in silence, as they usually did, spread out on different sides of the deserted highway. One thing they'd decided from the beginning was that there would be absolutely no conversations unless it was extremely necessary. Each person had a buddy whom they could give a tap on the shoulder if need be. And whoever was at the head of the troupe, usually Eric since he was voted the leader, knew to raise his hand as a signal to stop.

Beyond that, it was simply a matter of keeping up a good pace.

Arnold felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Gerald pointing ahead. Eric had raised his hand to stop them and Arnold had been too busy daydreaming to notice what they'd stumbled upon.

Stretched out before them for miles was a scattered array of ashen artillery, ghostlike and still on the deserted highway. It was all too eerie to see the marks of flame where a dragon had no doubt scattered an entire U.S. battalion with a single rushing breath. Vehicles, tanks, and even choppers were strewn about in front of them but, of course, there were no human bones to be seen.

Arnold began to feel very sick to his stomach and his bad hand twitched involuntarily. He saw the group beginning to spread out among the ruins, and Curly was approaching he and his buddy.

Weitman and Evalyn came from behind, also curious to know what was going on. They all leaned in close and Curly spoke low.

"Max thought it would be a good idea to search around for any weapons or food as we move through this area."

_Or just weapons_, Arnold thought sadistically as he nodded to Curly's information. He gave a little wave to the four of them to spread out like the others, and they proceeded to pick their way through the deserted battlefield. At first they didn't find much; a few hand grenades and empty canteens, and Misha found a camoflauge jacket in the cab of a truck, but no food.

"Arnold, look." Gerald said as he bent to retrieve a handgun laying on the pavement. Arnold raised an eyebrow at the sight of it.

"Is it loaded?" The doubt in his voice was not only evident, but justified. Gerald shook his head after checking.

"Nope."

_Good,_ Arnold thought. Naturally, he would easily trust Gerald with his life, so the thought of his having a gun and possibly using it didn't bother Arnold at all. It was the thought of having guns _at all_ that bothered him, if only because Maxwell seemed to be the type of person who'd be a little trigger-happy. He wasn't normally judgmental and rarely stereotypical, but based on the evidence against Max - and just the uneasy feeling Arnold had - he wasn't very willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. He hoped they wouldn't find any usable guns here and, therefore, would avoid any difficulties altogether. His hope would not be fulfilled, though.

At that moment he caught a movement in his peripheral vision and turned to see Curly waving to him. He was standing by an upturned truck. He waved discreetly, as though he didn't want anyone else to see him. Arnold and Gerald hurried over and, before Curly said a word, they both saw exactly what he'd called them over for.

Broken crates lay in piles inside the truck, their contents spilled out among them. Much to Arnold's dismay, said contents were piles of semi-automatics and ammunition cartridges. He blanched inwardly at the sight. The closest thing to a firearm he'd ever even come close to handling was a laser-tag gun. The idea of using a weapon of this size turned his stomach.

"What should we do?" Curly whispered, concern lacing his voice. His was quiet, but his eyes spoke the volume of his concern. Thankfully, Max Storm had wandered far enough away that neither he nor anyone else, save Misha, had noticed the three men congregating behind the truck.

Misha, who's just cast Arnold a questioning look, was motioned over to join them. When he reached them and saw why they'd gathered, both eyebrows shot up.

"Should we tell the others?" Gerald asked quietly.

Arnold's eyes drifted over the piles of firearms, trying to roughly guess how many there were. Did they really need these? They hadn't seen any dragons so far, and even if they did, guns hadn't done the army any good so what good would they be to this rag-tag team? And would having these guns in their possession cause problems within the group?

_Dragon's can't be shot, but people can…_Arnold shuddered at the thought. He didn't honestly believe that any situation could ever go to those extremes in their group, but he could easily be wrong. _Power makes people crazy…_

"Arnold?"

The blond man was brought out of his dark, random thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. They'd been talking to him and he hadn't heard them. Once again, they were all looking to him to make a decision. Arnold glanced at Curly and read his face like an open book.

"No…we should leave them here."

Curly visibly relaxed, if only a little.

"Are you sure?" Misha asked, though all three men standing there appeared to agree with Arnold's decision.

"Yeah, they won't help us anyway." He said, as though his decision needed a little justification. "We know where to find them if we should ever need them."

"Well, should we tell Eric and the others?" Gerald asked.

"No, I'll tell Eric later and explain why we left them," Arnold said, "Until then, don't tell anyone else about it just yet."

The other men nodded in agreement. Then they spread out once again so as not to draw attention. They continued their search with the others, the upturned truck and it's contents soon vanishing into the gray distance.

An hour later and quite a distance from the hidden treasury of weapons, the whole group was gathered and arguing quietly near another military truck. It's bed had a high covering over it for personnel transport. Weitman had found the key in the ignition and informed James, who did a brief check under it's hood and under the truck itself and found that it appeared to be in good working order.

The argument now was whether or not to try and start it. It was true that they would cover a lot more ground in a running vehicle, but would the noise be enough to draw the enemy's attention?

"We've already been gone more than a week. We're running out of time." Misha said.

"But if we alert a dragon and die now, everything will be lost!" Eric countered.

"We haven't seen a single dragon yet, and we probably won't out here in the middle of nowhere."

"That's true." Evalyn Capaldo added in her soft, intellectual tone. "Why would they live out here where there's no food and probably no shelter for animals their size?"

If the argument weren't so serious, Arnold might have smiled wryly at the little woman. She was not as out-spoken as Sara by a long shot, but the fact that she was the only woman in the group didn't deter her from making herself heard. She reminded him alot of Pheobe in that way. And on top of that, Weitman seemed perfectly content to let her do most of the talking. Arnold had yet to see the two of them disagree on any point.

After a long moment of consideration, Eric finally spoke. "Try it once. If it doesn't start, then it doesn't start."

Arnold thought that was a little unfair, but didn't say anything.

James hopped into the driver's seat and Eric leaned against the open window. A few seconds passed and James closed his eyes, muttering a brief but fervent prayer before turning the key. To everyone's shock, the engine sputtered and turned over repeatedly, but didn't start. James released the key and sat absolutely still. Everyone else froze as well, making everything silent as they listened for any sign of a dragon.

When they heard nothing, James looked at Eric expectantly, hoping that the other man wasn't really heartless enough to make them all walk when they were so close to having a ride.

"Try again." James said quietly, and the Australian turned the key again. The engine fought, but didn't start.

"Again." Eric said, much to James' surprise.

Praying hard, James turned the key again and the truck shuddered to life, shaking quite a bit at first, but the noise soon smoothed out to a gently hum. Arnold could hardly believe how quietly it ran.

Once again, everyone stood still, anticipating the sudden cry of a dragon in the distance. No such sound ever came, and Arnold felt Gerald slap his back, smiling.

"Alright, you're driving." Eric said, trying to remain serious, but James could tell that he was just as excited as the rest of them.

Eric then turned and pointed to the back of the truck and everyone piled in. Arnold sat close to the tailgate, holding his backpack in his lap as the truck started moving. He glanced at the Capaldo's, who sat across from him - Evalyn curled up comfortably under her husbands arm - and he immediately thought of Helga. He imagined her tucked under his own arm in the same way, and the joy that such a feeling would have brought him at that moment. The thought made his chest ache.

The whole situation was still a bit shocking to him. All throughout his childhood he never would have imagined he and his former nemesis having any sort of future together, especially _this_ sort of future.

_Well_, he thought with a wry little smile, _there was that one time…_

He could recall quite clearly that time in elementary school when Rhonda Lloyd tried to predict everyone's future mate with a paper origami. He almost laughed out loud remembering how stunned and flabbergasted he'd been when, time and again, the origami claimed that he and Helga were matched.

"What are you grinning about?"

Arnold was pulled back from memory lane by Curly, who sat beside him with a bemused look on his face.

"Huh?" Arnold said at first, and then his face flushed bright red as though his thoughts had just been put on display for all the world to see. "Oh, uh…nothing."

Curly only grinned at him. "Ok, lover-boy, I'll leave you to your daydreaming." He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. "Say hi to Helga for me."

Arnold elbowed him before leaning back himself and settling in for what he hoped would be a nice, long ride.

A/N: Ok, guys, I'm not sure when I'll be able to get another chapter up. School's a killer. But stick with me, I have the whole story worked out...I just need to get it typed and submitted:-)


	3. End of the Line

Chapter 3: End of the Line 

Arnold was jerked awake when the force of gravity sent his sleeping body flying foreword. He was not alone in his misfortune, a fact he realized as soon as he landed upon and was jostled by many other members of the group.

The truck's engine continued to sputter as it fought to keep going, jolting repeatedly for a few more yards before finally coming to a humiliating halt in the road.

Then, to everyone's horror, there was a sharp pop, a final sound of defeat that seemed to echo off of the surrounding trees. The passengers heard the cab doors open and creak in protest at being swung back too hard, and James and Eric appeared at the rear of the truck.

"Everyone out, hurry!" James said quietly, yet forcefully, as the two men opened the tailgate and the passengers flooded out. Eric gazed intently at the sky and the tree line around them "Spread out! Get to the woods, go!" He said, and not a second was spared as the group dispersed and spread out at a run, making their way as quickly as possible toward the meager shelter of the woods.

Eric remained by the truck, looking and listening. Then he heard it. It was faint, hardly audible at all. In fact, it may have been only his imagination, but it was enough. When he turned to follow the others into the woods, though, he caught a movement out of the corner of his vision.

Further up the road there was a short blond man running along the tree line and waving his arms wildly to get Eric's attention, but the man was not Arnold. In fact, he wasn't a member of their group at all.

Throwing his _don't talk to strangers_ caution to the wind, Eric hurried toward the man.

"Where did your friends go?" The shorter man said breathlessly when they reached each other. It took Eric a little off guard that the man was so blunt, bothering with no pleasantries whatsoever as though he knew Eric already. He looked back and it occurred to him that he didn't know where any of them had gone.

"They were supposed to re-group once they reached the trees…who are you?"

"We have to find them," the little man said, ignoring Eric's question, "I have a place you'll be safe."

At that moment Arnold, Gerald, Max and James came running up to them.

"Where are the others-" Just then, multiple shrill cries rose up from the far off distance and the little group turned as one, looking toward the trees on the opposite side of the road. For a brief moment, all were silent as they watched a scattered flock of birds rise over the tree tops and soar across the road, passing over their heads and disappearing.

"We have to go."

The blood had drained from the short man's face and his nerves seemed pent up as though he would take off like a shot at the slightest disturbance.

"Where are the others?" Eric asked those who'd appeared moments ago. Everything was happening so fast.

"We don't have time for that, we have to go _now_!" The man insisted.

The sound of pounding footsteps on sticks and leaves interrupted the two men as the Capaldo's hurried toward them.

"Eric…the birds…" Weitman panted, holding his wife's hand securely.

"Yeah, we saw them."

"Did you see Misha and Curly?" Arnold asked.

"No."

"We have to find them."

"Please, we have to go!" The little blond man pleaded, still ashen-faced as he eye'd the horizon.

"Who _are_ you?" Gerald asked.

"Who cares, let's just get out of here!" Max exclaimed.

"Ok, look…Arnold, come with me. The rest of you go with him, now!" James said and promptly hurried off, Arnold behind him.

"Follow me." The stranger said as he turned and took off at a brisk run. The others pushed to keep up with him, swift as he was for his size. Soon he veered off into the woods and they followed, swerving around trees and hopping over fallen logs and leaving the road far behind them.

They came to a decently sized hillside, which they followed until the stranger suddenly dropped to the ground near a pile of large rocks and disappeared. It was as if the earth had simply sucked him into the hillside, and they all stopped, rather dumbfounded. A moment later, though, his blond head appeared near the ground from behind one of the large rocks.

"Come on!" He said before disappearing once more. Now they saw where he'd gone. Just on the other side of the rocks was a hole, scarcely more than two feet in diameter and well hidden by the rocks.

Gerald was the first to climb through, followed by Weitman and Evalyn.

"You've got to be kidding…" Max mumbled as he watched Weitman's feet vanish through the dark hole.

"Just get in there!" Eric urged, shoving him. Max whirled on the older man as if to strike him in indignation. Then, just as suddenly, the anger was gone and Max turned back toward the hole and crawled inside. When he finally reached the other end, warmth hit his face and arms like a welcoming embrace and, before he knew it, Weitman was grabbing his arms and helping him out of the hole. Two seconds later, he found out why he needed help.

The hole was no longer level with the ground, but a few feet above it. If Weitman hadn't been there to catch him, Max would have landed right on his face. Upon gaining his full balance, Max was able to survey his surroundings.

It was a cave. He could think of little else that categorized it. The space was roughly the size of an average bedroom and had three doors that appeared to have been manufactured some time prior to the American Civil War. One door was situated in the center of the wall to his left. The other two sat on either end of the wall across from him, one of which was open, but he couldn't see inside.

Like the others, it only took Max a second to take in these surroundings before he had to move aside to make room for Eric, who was crawling through the hole behind him.

Another thing Max noticed, though, was that the blond man was standing near an even shorter brunette girl just outside the open door. She appeared frantic and upset as she gestured wildly with both hands, but she spoke not a word. The blond man was trying to explain something to her, but she continued to gesture and get more upset.

Max realized that she was mute.

The little man turned abruptly away from her, regardless of her hand gripping his arm in blatant protest.

"I'm going back out." He said, which surprised them all. He'd been so adamant about leaving before.

"I'm coming with you."

"Me too."

"No!" His harsh refusal took them all by surprise. "It's too dangerous. I know my way around here, but I need someone to stand outside the door in case they come this way."

Everyone looked at Eric for acceptance or rejection of this plan.

"I'll stand by the door, but I think someone needs to go with you." Eric said.

The little man seemed irritated. "You'll all make too much noise!"

"They're _our_ friends, _we're_ going to help find them!" Gerald insisted.

"Wait, he's probably right. Having everybody out searching would get us nowhere right now, not when we're this disorganized." Eric said.

The other seemed to agree, albeit reluctantly. The stranger turned and crawed through the hole, followed quickly by Eric. Not knowing what to do with themselves, the four that remained all unintentionally looked at the young girl, but she paid them little heed. She merely wrung her hands and began pacing the dirt floor.

His bare feet hit the soft ground and underbrush with hardly a sound as he ran, veering in different directions to avoid trees and such. Every so often he dropped to the ground and held his breath, listening for any sound of the travelers as they trampled noisily through the woods, or for sounds of the coming dragon which, by all intents and purposes, should have arrived by now.

Not that he could pass judgment on the travelers for their lack of stealth, though. That was why he didn't want any of them out here getting killed for making too much noise. He knew that he was only good at this because he'd been doing it for so long.

Hearing nothing, he took off again, running a good distance before stopping again. This time, just as his muscles prepared to launch him into another sprint, he heard a shout.

A loud shout.

_Damn it!_

A howl split the air and the little man could clearly hear the rushing of wind with each beat of a pair of giant wings.

He leapt to his feet and made for the sound of the shout at a dead run, throwing stealth to the wind. He heard more than saw the dragon swoop overhead, trying to spot it's soon-to-be meal through the thick canopy of trees.

He saw someone running through the trees in his direction and skidded to a stop, barely preventing a painful collision. The other man stopped as well, though more out of shock than anything else at meeting a complete stranger while lost in the woods.

"Curly of Misha?" He asked, but the other man could only nod, dumbfounded that this stranger actually knew him.

The little man took him by the arm and pointed in the direction he'd just come.

"Go that way. Keep running as fast as you can until you come to a hill. Follow that and you'll find your friends, alright?"

"Who are you?"

"Aaron, your friends know me, now go!" He said, shoving him foreword, and the taller man took off without another word.

Mere seconds later, Arnold and James appeared, breathless.

"We heard a shout-"

"Yeah, you're not the only ones-"

The dragon flew out overhead; it wouldn't be long now before it found them.

"It was one of your friends. I sent him that way. Did you find the other one?"

"Not yet."

"We can't stay out here like this…" James said, watching the sky. There was a brief pause as each man considered what could be done.

"Which one did you find?" Arnold asked.

"He didn't say, really. Tall, curly-brown hair…"

"Misha." James said, looking at Arnold. That meant that Curly was still out there somewhere. James didn't know Curly very well, but he knew Arnold did. None of that mattered, though. They had to find him.

Suddenly the dragon swooped down, unleashing a wave of flame into the trees almost directly on top of them. Barely managing to escape the path of fire, the three men recovered and Aaron made to start running.

"Wait-" Arnold started to say, only to be interrupted by James.

"We can't find him now, Arnold. If we stay out here we'll die!"

"What about _Curly_?" With a sense of overwhelming defeat, he knew that James was right. His nerves vibrated with indecision until James tugged on his arm.

"We'll come back for him. He's out here somewhere. He's smart, right? Out here by himself, the dragon won't find him…we _will_ come back for him."

Arnold was hardly aware of himself as they fled through the forest, and he knew he'd probably never forgive himself for leaving Curly out here if they never found him.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. College can be a real time-consumer, ya know?


	4. The Boy and the Cave

Chapter 4: Aaron and Jenny

Name: Aaron Sable

Age: 19

Appearance: 5'3", yellow-blond hair, brown eyes, boying face.

Aaron is a straightforeward, no-nonsense mannered young man who has been living in a fallout shelter with his former girlfriends younger sister Jenny.

Name: Jenny Gabbler

Age: 14

Appearance: 5'1", shoulder-length straight black hair, hazel eyes.

The group was very quiet that night. Aaron had a small metal table in the center of the room where he now sat, along with Eric, James, Matt and the young girl. The others were scattered throughout the little room, just listening to the slow conversation and thinking mostly about Curly.

"So…how long have you been down here?" James was asking Aaron. It had already been explained that the 'cave' was in fact an old cellar dug near the late 1800's, and then it was converted into a fallout shelter some time later before finally becoming a storage room. Like the table, most everything else was made of metal except for a few things that had been roughly made from wood. A prime example of this was the wooden spit in the corner from which hung two dead rabbits.

"About as long as the dragon's have been around. There's a tunnel through that door that used to lead to Jenny's old house, 'course it's not there anymore. I didn't even know this was here until…that day I came to her house."

The young girl sitting next to him, Jenny, slipped one of her thin arms around his and leaned her raven head against his forearm.

"I was actually looking for her sister, my girlfriend. The cops were trying to evacuate people and everyone was acting crazy. Katie was supposed to be home from school, but she wasn't there. Neither were her parents. Jenny was there alone until I showed up, and when the first dragon came we got down here before the house was knocked down on our heads."

"Man, I'm sorry." Gerald said.

"Did you ever find out what happened to her? Your girlfriend?"

"Katie? No. I looked for her a couple times, but the school was gone." What Aaron didn't say was there he'd made a sign and put it in the ground outside the remains of the house for Katie to see, should she ever find her way back to the house. If she was alive. Aaron felt no need to share that with them, though.

"Hey, how about you two come with us!" Misha suggested.

"Come with you?" Aaron asked.

"Well, we're not exactly sure where we're _going_ yet," Eric said, "but that's not a bad idea, Misha."

Aaron seemed to consider for a moment. "I don't know…"

The one light bulb that was turned on flickered slightly, and Aaron made a motion to Jenny. She didn't seemed very pleased, but rose from her seat and hurried into the other room. Aaron turned back to the others.

"It sound's like a great idea and all, but…I don't feel good about taking Jenny out there. It's too big of a risk with her handicap and all." He was quiet, almost hesitant as he spoke, and the others nodded their understanding. "Maybe…if you found a safe enough place to live…could you stop by here again on your way back to the city?"

James smiled. "Of course we can."

"So…how have you kept this place lit and warm and stuff?" Eric asked, trying to change the subject.

"Well, it's a cave, so it doesn't need a lot of heating or cooling or anything like that. We have a bicycle-powered generator in the other room, and we just take turns. That's where Jenny went just now. It's just us two and we rarely use more than one light at once, so it's not too hard."

While they continued to talk about this, Gerald managed to slip away and take a seat next to Arnold on the floor.

"Hey Arnold, you ok?"

Arnold didn't say anything at first. He hadn't really said anything at all since returning.

"No…no, I'm not ok."

If Gerald had been caught off guard by the blunt reply, he didn't show it. Instead he waited patiently with eyes full of sympathy for Arnold to continue.

"We shouldn't have come back without him."

"You had no choice, man. You never would have found him with that dragon on your tail."

"We could have called out or something. It knew where we were, making noise wouldn't have mattered-"

"Arnold-"  
"We could have found him. If we'd have just stayed out a little longer-"

"You'd be dead, Arnold."

The finality of Gerald's tone was what grabbed Arnold's attention. Of course, he knew that Gerald probably spoke the truth, but it still didn't sway his guilt.

_We waited for two days in this bomb shelter before going back out to look for Curly, hoping that enough time had passed for the dragon to either not be nearby or have forgotten about us altogether. _

_Thankfully, we've had no further trouble in that respect. However, we haven't been able to find Curly yet, and the others are beginning to lose hope. We've decided to search for two more days before moving on._

Arnold winced and held his breath, halting mid-step among the trees. He was alone in this part of the woods near the road, and thankful for it.

Ever since that incident when they'd been digging graves back in the city, he'd been having bouts of excruciating pain in his leg. He found that he could hide it well though. When many times he would rather limp than walk to relieve the pain, he fought against it and stood upright. In an almost morbid way, he felt that the pain made him stronger, and so he never hesitated to beat it back and show it who was boss.

Of course none of this had prevented him from "borrowing" some pain-killers from the hospital back at the tunnels, which he had yet to use. He planned to save them until it was absolutely necessary, keeping them in his pocket like a secret weapon and daring the pain to get that bad. He felt guilty about stealing them, though. Guilty because he hadn't just asked and because supplies had been running low, and guilty because he hadn't said anything to Dr. Brandon about his leg.

That rebellious little voice in his head reminded Arnold that Brandon hadn't asked, so technically he wasn't lying by not telling him. Arnold knew better though. He knew the doctor loved him like a son and would probably be hurt that Arnold hadn't told him. But he also knew that if Brandon had been able to see just how bad the pain was, Arnold would never have been allowed on this mission.

Arnold shook his head clear and pressed on. He could see the sun beginning to make its downward slide toward the west and knew he only had a few more hours left to search.

It never crossed his mind that Curly might not be out there; never crossed his mind that he might not be there at all.

Arnold stood at the tree line and scanned the wide open space that held the road. He'd walked quite a distance from the shelter and could see the abandoned truck up ahead, resting just as they'd left it four days ago. Arnold sighed quietly to himself and continued his trek through the woods, feeling his hope dying a little more with every painful step.


	5. Revelations

Chapter 5: Revelations

Arnold lay awake that night, thinking about a great number of things. He hadn't participated in any of the conversations earlier, but he'd been listening to Max explaining his whole 'dragon-slaying' thing to Aaron, and the shorter man seemed intrigued by the idea. That is, until he found out the non-existent success of Max's aspirations.

Thinking of this conversation reminded Arnold of the guns they had left on the road a few days back, and he wondered now if that had been the best idea. Surely all of them shooting at once would at least scare the dragon away, right?

_Most likely it would just make him mad_, his mind's voice said.

Arnold felt a dull ache in his leg and rubbed it a bit with his hand. This reminded him of when they'd had to jump out of the truck, and he closed his eyes. He hadn't been watching where anybody was going. He had still been a little groggy from sleeping when they'd had to jump out and it was only the pain in his leg that really woke him up. He'd forgotten to land on his good leg and the pain had shot up the entire side of his body.

_If only the pain hadn't been so bad…_ He might have seen which way Curly had gone.

Maybe if they'd let the tailgate down instead of climbing over it…

Arnold's train of thought stopped then and rewound itself. _We did open the tailgate…_

Arnold pictured the truck in his mind the way he had seen it that afternoon. The tailgate had been shut, but he could have sworn they had opened it to climb out.

_Eric probably closed it_, he thought idly. _But why would he bother?_

Arnold lay still for a long time, eyes open. Something wasn't right, but he just couldn't put his finger on what.

"Eric?" Arnold whispered to the man laying next to him on the dirt floor.

"Hm? What?" The older man said groggily.

"Did you close the tailgate on the truck after we got out?"

"Huh?"

"The back hatch on the truck, did you close it?" Arnold said a little more urgently.

There was a moment of silence before Eric said: "I don't know."

"Think."

"Uh…No…no, I didn't close it…why?"

Now it was Arnold's turn to be silent, but only for a few seconds before he jumped up off the floor and pulled on his sweatshirt.

"I know where he is!" He said rather loudly as he plunged into the hole that would lead him outside. He could hear Eric and a few other muffled voices shouting to him as he climbed through the hole. He wanted to explain it to them, but for some reason he felt an extreme sense of urgency.

It was pitch black outside and Arnold wasn't aware that he'd reached the end of the tunnel until he felt the chill of the air hitting him on all sides. He leapt to his feet and hurried off in the direction of the road hoping that by running straight he would not get lost. It wasn't long before he found the road and turned left, running as hard as he could. His leg burned with pain each time he put his weight on it, but he paid it little heed. He _had_ to get to the truck.

The chilly air cut through his sweatshirt and nipped his skin. But it was that same wind that moved the clouds across the sky to reveal the moon, which sent a faint blue glow across the landscape.

Arnold could see the abandoned truck in the distance and whispered a silent prayer of thanks to Dr. Brandon's god. He'd been afraid of running right past it in this inky darkness. He stumbled to a stop and wheeled around to the back end of the truck. The tailgate was closed and the cover was pulled down. He pulled the cover back and looked inside, but the moon was veiled once more and he could see nothing. His heart sank.

"Arnold?"

His heart rate doubled at the sound of a small, cautious voice, and a very familiar face became visible in the darkness.

"Curly?" He dropped the hatch down and was about to climb onto it, but he knew in an instant that his leg would never allow it.

As soon as the hatch was down, though, Curly gripped both his arms and looked at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. "Oh, God…" He said breathlessly, almost inaudibly. Had it not been for the darkness, Arnold would have sworn that Curly was crying. He'd never seen such a crazed, shocked look about his friend before.

"I thought…I thought I was the only one left…" Curly choked on his words, and Arnold knew that he was indeed crying. Curly had obviously spent days thinking that they had all been killed and he was the only one still alive, and alone. He put his hands on Curly's shoulders, but where Curly's grip was one of desperate hope and disbelief, Arnold's was one that sent strength and reassurance.

"We're all still here, Curly. We're all alive-"

At that second, Gerald appeared, followed closely by Max. There was exclamations of shock and surprise at seeing Curly alive, and Gerald immediately embraced him. Curly clung to Gerald pitifully as though all three of them would disappear if he let go.

"Are you alright?" This question of concern came from Max, who had one hand on the distressed man's shoulder. Curly nodded as Gerald released him.

"I think…I think my leg's broken."

_No wonder he didn't get out of the truck when he first saw me_, Arnold thought.

"Let's see." He said.

Curly carefully pulled back his pant leg to reveal a very swollen and out-of-place ankle.

"It's not that bad." Arnold lied reassuringly. "Just your ankle."

"What happened?" Max asked.

"I don't know, I think I stepped in a hole or something."

"Alright, well, let's get you out of here." Gerald said then as he swung Curly's arm over his shoulder and helped him out. Max took his other arm and together they helped Curly to stand. As much as he wanted to help, Arnold was glad that the other two were there to assist Curly instead. He could barely support his own weight, let alone that of another…

Arnold froze for a split second, appalled by the word that had almost crossed his mind.

_Cripple_.

He'd almost thought of himself, and Curly, as being crippled.

_I am NOT a cripple_, he thought to himself angrily as he followed the others across the road. He spit on the pavement as though he had actually spoken the word and it had left a vile taste in his mouth. He cast the thought from his mind as they approached the tree line where many of the others waited.

When they arrived back at the shelter, Arnold spent the better part of the evening trying to explain how he'd known that Curly would be in the truck, and apologizing for leaving so abruptly.

It was just a few hours until dawn by the time things settled down again. Since there was nothing with which to splint and secure Curly's ankle with, he was forced to simply endure the pain for the time being. However, the joy of seeing his friends still alive seemed to completely over-shadow any pain he was feeling. He still couldn't walk though, and it was to this dilemma that the topic of discussion inevitably turned when they awoke at daybreak.

They briefly considered taking turns carrying him, but that idea was quickly abandoned. All of them knew the unspoken truth was that Curly would now slow them down and make them very vulnerable.

"I don't think we have a choice, guys." Eric said, looking at Curly with regret. "We may have to leave you here."

"I know." Curly said dejectedly.

"We'll come back for you, of course."

Curly nodded his head. Though he never would have agreed to going with them and putting them all in danger, he hated the idea of being left behind.

After an awkward moment of silence, Jenny began gesturing with her hands.

"She says 'look on the bright side, at least you can stay here with us where you won't be alone'." Aaron translated as Jenny smiled reassuringly. Curly returned the smile, weakly. Her words were truth, and they certainly helped, but only a little.

"Well, guys, let's get ready to head out, then."

As the others gathered their things, Eric spoke to Aaron directly. "I guess it's a good thing we were coming back for you and Jenny, huh?"

"Yeah, no kiddin'."

"Thanks for all your help, Aaron, and for lookin' after Curly for us."

The two men shook hands firmly.

_We said our farewells to Aaron, Jenny and Curly and were on our way once more. That was about six days ago, which brings the tally up to about twenty days total. We found a pile of ash and rubble that used to be a toll road plaza, but no decent shelter and no travelers information. Specifically, we were hoping to find something that would help us find a place to live in the country. We needed a specific place to look rather than just search around without any set destination. That would take forever. We've gone over many bridges and been able to see a great deal of the surrounding area, but we just don't have time to search every town._

Arnold gazed up at the mid-morning sky as the group trudged on down the road, this being their 23rd day of travel. The old Arnold would have simply daydreamed the afternoon away beneath a sky so blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. The man that he was now, however, had all but forgotten how to allow himself such an innocent luxury. His trained ears listened for distant sounds as he scanned the horizon. They'd come to an area that was barren and open. Arnold could only guess that it used to be farmland, for it seemed to be plotted in large squares that stretched into the distance, with a patch of trees here and there. Though the trees still held some colored leaves on them, the land was as gray and dead as the city they'd left behind. Arnold knew that he could easily be overtaken by loneliness in a place like this, had he not the companionship of eight other people.

_Only eight_, he thought, wondering briefly how Curly was getting along.

With his eyes and mind wandering, he didn't notice when Eric motioned for them to stop, and he collided slightly into Misha's back. Misha glanced at him curiously, and Arnold gave an apologetic shrug before looking ahead to where Eric stood. The man had a very set, intense look on his face as he seemed to be listening very hard.

Then all at once he swept his arm over his head at a wide arch and set of at a brisk, quasi-silent run. They all followed him as quickly and as silently as possible with their packs and their weariness in tow.

It seemed an eternity to Arnold before they finally reached a small cluster of trees just off the road a ways where they all dropped to the ground and lay perfectly still, trying not to pant too loudly. Only Misha ventured a question.

"What is it?" His voice was barely audible.

"Dragons."

"Are you sure?"

"No," Eric said after a moment's pause, "but waiting to be sure wasn't an option."

They laid there silently beneath the cover of the trees for a short while, and it wasn't until their heavy breathing had died down that they suddenly heard the rushing of wings in the near distance. It was approaching fast. Arnold found himself wishing that he could sink into the ground and vanish from sight altogether.

The sound grew louder still before a gust of wind shook the trees around them and three gigantic dragons soared overhead. Their aged wings caught the wind with a surprising grace and agility, but this did not deter the mind from their foreboding, hell-bent presence. The mid-day sun shone off their black and red scales as they made their way north.

Arnold heard Gerald release a strained sigh beside him, and he realized he'd been holding his breath and released it abruptly and quietly. It wasn't until the dragons had almost disappeared into the distance that someone finally spoke.

"Looks like you were right." Misha said. "How did you know?"

"I heard them…at least, I think I did. Maybe I just got a bad feeling or something."

"You had a feeling?" Max said skeptically.

"Hey, I got us to safety, didn't I?" Eric snapped.

"Yeah, ok. Sorry." Max said quickly.

They all climbed to their feet, feeling an awkward silence.

"Well, anyway," Gerald said, patting Eric on the back, "look's to me like we got a good man leading this band."

"Yeah." Eric muttered as he swung his pack over his shoulder and started walking. He didn't signal for them to follow him, but they did anyway, some casting concerned glances at each other.

Arnold jogged up beside Eric. "Hey, everything alright up here?" He asked, saying this because he always brought up the rear.

"Yeah, fine, Arnold. I guess I just don't feel too good today."

Arnold hesitated before speaking again. "Anything on your mind?"

"Not really." Eric answered. They walked in silence for a short while before Eric spoke again, startling Arnold a little.

"I guess I'm just tired of being in charge."

Arnold waited silently for Eric to continue, if that was his plan. And it was.

"I'm just not sure I'm the best guy for this job. I mean, look what happened to Curly? If something else had happened…I mean, if we got attacked and one of you died-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, man. You know what happened back there wasn't your fault, it wasn't anybody's fault. We all joined this group knowing the risks. Nobody's going to hold you responsible if-"

"_I_ will!"

Arnold was silent for a second, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Eric cut him off before he uttered a word.

"Look, Arnold, I know you're trying to help, and I appreciate it, really. But don't worry about it."

Arnold respectfully said nothing more. As much as he wanted to help, and as much as it was still a part of who he was, he knew Eric well enough to know that he'd better just let it go for now.

Day 25:

_We located information at last today. Near the boarder of Indiana and Michigan we found a toll plaza that was still standing, stocked with a wealth of tourist guides and information about the surrounding area. We weren't exactly sure where we were until reaching this place, and I was stunned to learned that we'd traveled so far. Granted, it's taken us almost a full month, but I guess I just didn't expect to come so far from home. The others were aware of this too so we've decided to go no further. With the information we have now, I'm sure we can find a decent place to live. There are a couple different locations we're going to check out, specifically further out in the country._

"Arnold?"

Arnold looked up from his writing. "Hm? What?"

"Are you listening?" Eric was saying with just a slight hint of agitation.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." Arnold said he flipped his notebook shut.

"Anyway," Max started saying again, "I think we came too far. We've come over 600 mile and it took us almost a month. How are we going to get all those people this far without incident?"

"Not counting that many of them are too sick to walk." Evalyn added quietly.

They sat in the kitchen of the toll plaza restaurant, gathered around the stove which, remarkably, still worked. The evening was chilly and the stove was all they had for warmth. They also helped themselves to some food they happened to find, which consisted mainly of bulk canned foods like pickles, chili beans…etc.

"Look, guys. I understand your concern, but we're here now and it's the best place we've found so far. If we'd stopped and searched beyond even a few of those other towns, we might be 300 miles behind and still searching." Eric said, and James nodded in agreement.

"But w are we going to move the consumption patients this far?"

"We'll probably have to make multiple trips-"

"Wait a second, guys!" Misha said suddenly. "This is a toll plaza, right? Can't we just use the gas at the pumps out there? If we could get it to the truck, then we'll use it to haul people back and forth!"

They were silent a moment, pondering this.

"That sounds good to me-" Eric started saying.

"They probably don't work anymore." Max said rather negatively.

"We can try, though." James said.

"Tomorrow. We'll try tomorrow. Even if the pumps don't work, I'm sure we can get to the gas another way." Everyone agreed. "Now, if we _do_ get the truck running again, I think half of us should go back and the rest should stay here and check out these places." He continued, glancing down at the information brochures he held in his hands.

"Shouldn't we wait until we've found a place before going back?"

"Not if we hope to beat the snow." Weitman said, this being one of the few times he actually voiced his opinion.

"He's right, our chances of getting them all here before winter are better if we start as soon as we can." Arnold said.

"Alright. Well, it's getting late. We should hit the sack and continue this discussion in the morning."

"That's the best plan I've heard all day!" Gerald exclaimed.

Arnold woke slowly to a small shuffling sound. At first he thought it was just his imagination, but after a moment or two more, he knew that someone was up and moving around.

More curious than alarmed, Arnold sat up slowly, his muscles groaning in protest. He'd been curled up quite comfortably on one of the cushioned restaurant benches and, though his mind was curious, his body hadn't wanted to be disturbed.

As he eased up into a sitting position, he didn't notice right away that the sound abruptly stopped. He looked around the large area that surrounded the sleeping group, but saw no sign of anybody having been moving around. Everyone was sound asleep.

He sighed, wishing he didn't have such an overactive mind as he flopped back down onto the bench and quickly fell back asleep.

Arnold was jarred from sleep by the sound of a horrific crash. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the post-dawn light, but he instantly saw that he wasn't the only one woken with a start. Two seconds later, the sound of metal hitting linoleum and the pattering of feet sent people jumping to their feet to investigate.

In the kitchen, they found the over door open and a couple pans scattered on the floor. At first, no one said anything, just looked at each other. Max bent down and drew one finger under the edge of one of the pans, staining the finger with something. He examined it closely for a moment before looking at the others.

"It's blood."

Before anyone could respond, there came a small, indistinct sound from the far corner of the kitchen.

Arnold was beginning to wonder if they hadn't taken some of those guns after all.

"The closet." Misha said.

"I think you're right." James whispered as he and a few others moved cautiously in that direction. Evalyn stepped foreword, but Weitman took her protectively by the arm without a word.

Brandishing whatever blunt object they could find, they advanced toward the sound. Arnold felt rather ridiculous holding a metal spatula as a weapon.

They approached a closet door and heard another small sound from within. James motioned for the others to stay back as he reached for the doorknob. He hauled it open and gripped his frying pan, poised to strike at whatever was inside.

The creature in the closet had no intention of pouncing, however. All the men were silent as they stared with wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions.

"What is it?" Evalyn ventured to ask when no one spoke right away, and peered over her husbands shoulder. "Oh my…"

The figure in the closet whimpered and pressed his crouching body against the back wall, both hands covering his head protectively. Blood trickled down his temple and onto his hands. His shorts and t-shirt were tattered and his calloused feet were bare, and he had thick blond hair that reached almost beyond his shoulders.

"What…" Eric stuttered, not entirely sure what to say.

"Where the blazes did _you_ come from?" Max said bluntly.

"Max." Gerald scowled

"You…you took my food…" the boy accused in a small voice, still cowering on the floor, peeking at them through his fingers with one curious eye. No one spoke.

"Oh, you buys are all useless!" Evalyn said suddenly, pushing her way between them to stand in front of the closet door. At her approach, the boy moved closer to the wall, if that were possible.

"Are you alright?" Evalyn asked gently.

He peered at the little woman cautiously for a moment before nodding slightly.

"My name is Evalyn. What's you name?"

"Tyler."

Evalyn smiled brightly at him. "Tyler. What a handsome name."

Tyler didn't smile at her compliment, but he did seem to be warming up to her.

"Yours is pretty." He said quietly, and Evalyn smiled again.

The other man all stood around watching in wonder. This boy was obviously not all there, and yet Evalyn spoke to him as though it were effortless.

As though he were a child.

It was plain to see, however, that this boy was hardly a boy at all.

_He can't be much younger than me, _Arnold thought.

"Do you want to come out of there?" Evalyn asked, but Tyler shook his head vigorously.

"It looks pretty uncomfortable down there. Are you sure?"

He shook his head again, eyeing the other men warily, and Evalyn caught his gaze.

"Don't be scared of them, they won't hurt you. Their like…big teddy bears."

Tyler looked up at them again, and his eyes locked with Arnolds for just a second, long enough for Arnold to smile at him. Tyler didn't return it. Evalyn reached out a hand to him. "Come on, Tyler, you don't want to stay in there."

Tyler looked at her outstretched hand, then at the men standing behind her, then at her smiling face, then back down at her hand. He reached out and carefully placed his own hand in hers. It was stained with a little blood, but Evalyn didn't seem to mind as she carefully pulled him to his feet and out of the closet.

"Hold still now, honey." Evalyn was saying as Arnold cleaned the cut on his head and applied antibiotic ointment.

"You have a weird face. Did you used to do drugs?"

Tyler's bluntness almost made Arnold drop the ointment tube. It wasn't the first outlandish accusation he'd made about one of them, but Evalyn warned them not to take offense. Tyler didn't know any better, he was just curious. He seemed to trust no one but her.

"No, sweetheart, Arnold never did drugs." Evalyn said quickly.

"Drugs are bad. My brother did drugs once, and mom sent him away."

Both Arnold and Evalyn were quiet a moment, then Evalyn spoke. "Those are burn scars. Arnold fought a dragon."

Tyler looked back at Arnold, mouth agape. "Really?"

Arnold nodded and held up his gnarled hand. Tyler stared with wide eyes, his mouth still hanging open. "But…no one fights dragons…everybody dies."

"Not everybody." Evalyn said with a smile.

Tyler reached out and touched Arnold's misshapen hand carefully as though mesmerized.

"Dragons are evil." He whispered, as though talking to himself.

"Yes, they are." Evalyn said.

"You guys are heroes, though. You fight them."

"We just do what we can to stay alive, that's all. We don't try to fight them."

Tyler was looking straight into Arnold's eyes now, and it made him a little uncomfortable.

"But you _do_ fight them, that makes you a hero."

Max walked up to them then, interrupting. "Eric wants to move out, are you coming?"

"Where?" Arnold asked, breaking away from the boy's vivid green eyes and looking at Max.

"Out to scope that military school."

"No, I'm gonna stick around here and help James with the gas."

"Alright."

"You're all leaving?" Tyler asked.

"No, some of the guys are going to find a better place to live." Arnold answered him.

"Really? Can I go, too?"

"Well, not yet. They're just going to look. They'll come back for us when they find a place.

"I'm glad you guys came, I don't like it here. People get sick here."

Evalyn and Arnold looked at each other. "Sick?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah, real sick. I've been sick a bunch. And the baby died."

"Baby?"

"Yeah, my baby. I'll show you-" Tyler jumped from his chair and made for the exit, Evalyn and Arnold hurrying to keep up with him. They followed him outside and across the expanse of dead grass that served as a 'nature walk' for people stretching their legs after a long drive. Tyler led them past a few plastic picnic tables to a small mound in the center of the park. At the head of the mound stood a long wooden spoon with a ribbon tied around it like a flag.

"This is my baby. He's dead now." Tyler said quietly. "It gets cold here when winter comes, and he got real sick. I got sick, too, but I didn't die.

Arnold and Evalyn stood there by the little grave feeling very awkward, speechless, and quite sad.

"How old was he?" Evalyn asked gently.

"Don't know. He was still wearing diapers when I found him, and he couldn't talk. Just cried a lot, 'specially when he was sick. He cried a lot when he was sick."

"You _found_ him?" Arnold couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, in a minivan. His parents got ate by dragons and I saved him. I loved him a lot…" Tyler trailed off, deep in his own thoughts. Evalyn pulled her thread-bear sweater closer around her, and Arnold noticed then just how chilly it was.

"We should go back inside now." He said, trying to brake the awkwardness, and Evalyn nodded. She linked her arm in Tyler's, carefully at first. He took her arm in return as though it were normal, and they started back inside. Arnold marveled at this, wondering how Evalyn was able to so easily relate to someone like Tyler.

The search team turned up nothing that first day, and they returned disheartened.

"The town was completely flattened." Gerald told Arnold.

"Meh, we're looking for open country anyway."

"Well, we'll find it here, that's for darn sure." Misha added from a few feet away as he dropped his bag on a bench. "Surrounding the town was nothing but empty fields as far as the eye can see."

Arnold felt a slight swell of relief. He knew that this was a far as they could go, and if Misha was correct, he hoped it would be far enough. He didn't want to have to backtrack.

"Any luck with he gas?" Misha asked then.

"We got some from the pumps, but not much. We tried to get it from underground, but the opening is bolted pretty tight." Arnold answered.

"Will it be enough to get the truck back to the city?"

"Oh, yeah. We should be able to make at least one trip there and back." Arnold said.

"Just one?" Gerald said, his disappointment mimicked on Misha's face.

"It should be enough to transport all the sick ones. That's really all we need it for." Arnold confident tone seemed forced, as though he himself wasn't entirely reassured by his own words.

"Sick ones? You're bringing sick people here?" This was said by Tyler, who hurried over to Arnold with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

"Not the kind of sickness you're thinking of, Tyler. You can't catch it, you'll be fine." Arnold reassured him. However, that trace of fakeness still laced his voice. Even though Dr. Brandon had said it wasn't a contagious disease, the fact that it seemed to have been spreading throughout the community led Arnold to doubt the doctors words.

Tyler didn't seem too convinced, either.

"How can you be sure? I get sick real easy. Are you sure?"

"It's not contagious, ok, kid?" Max blurted somewhat gruffly from where he'd stretched out on a bench.

"I'm seventeen years old." Tyler told him matter-of-factly. Max only grunted and turned on his side, away from them.

Arnold looked at Gerald. "What's with him?" He whispered.

Gerald only shrugged. "I don't know, man. He just gets like that sometime.

_That_, unfortunately, was a mood that Max maintained for the remainder of the evening, so no one bothered him.

**A/N**: Ok, I know for some of you the whole thing with Tyler was probably irritating in it's appearant pointlessness. However, I feel that it's neseccary to have new faces pop up during their journey because, based on the movie, it's only been a few years since the dragons attacked and there are still quite a few people left in the world. This will be made evident later, but for now I have to stay true to the fact that there is not going to be alot of rapid dragon activity in the barren stretches of farmland in states like Pennsilvania, Ohio and Indiana, hence the ability of random people to survive in random places.

Hope this doesn't bother people too much. To make things easier, I've stuck with the whole "bio's at the beginning" thing, which I will do for Tyler in the next story. Thanks for stiking with me, guys!


	6. Finding Home

Chapter 6: Finding Home

_Our luck seems to be wearing thinner and thinner as the days pass, and the same can be said for the warm weather. Autumn is setting in, and if we don't find a place soon we'll be stuck here for the winter. After a few unsuccessful searches, we decided we shouldn't go back for the others until we're sure we can find a place to live. We can't travel back and forth all those miles in the cold, or ask people to live in this toll plaza during the winter. I'm not sure what we're going to do._

"Oh, man! Look at this place!" Gerald exclaimed.

He, Arnold, Misha and Eric were approaching a moderate expanse of large cement and brick buildings clustered together in a labyrinth sort of way. It had taken them some time to get here; the place was surrounded by fields and skeletal houses, and was somewhat concealed in a valley by sparse woodlands. What was more remarkable than the fact that it was still standing, though, was that it seemed to be in great condition, almost well maintained.

They'd soon find out why.

"Ho, there!"

The sudden unfamiliar shout caused all four men to jump slightly. Before they could wonder about it or worry a dragon might have been roused somewhere nearby, a man appeared on top of the foremost building.

Another man came out through the double-door entrance, a Great Dane trailing at his side.

"Hello!" Eric called back, daring to be loud in such an open atmosphere. The man approached them and they met him halfway. He had a wary look about him that spoke of caution and distrust as he ran a hand through the tuft of blond hair on the top of his head.

"If you're looking for someone particular, they're probably here, though I can't make any promises." The man said easily, as though he'd had plenty of practice. The small group looked back and fourth at one another before Eric finally spoke.

"Um, actually, we were looking for a place to stay."

"Well, we've got that too," said the strange man as he turned to head back inside, motioning for them to follow, "Where'd you boys hail from?"

They were still a little surprised to find people living here - and so obliging no less - so it took a moment for them to find their voices confidently.

"New York." Arnold said.

"That's quite a long haul. Look's like you made it just in time-" He paused as they passed through the doorway. "You didn't walk the whole way, did you?"

A guilty silence reverberated through the four men before Gerald spoke. "We rode in a truck part of the way." It didn't bother mentioning how small a part of had been.

The man whistled low as they made their way through the second set of double doors into a long hallway. As they walked they saw relatively clean floors and walls, glass windows forming the wall of what used to be, and appeared to perhaps still be a room full of offices. Anybody who passed them smiled politely. It was all a sharp contrast to the damp caves they'd come from.

"There's plenty of room here, so I'm gonna put you guys in one of the classrooms up in the West end." The strange man was saying as they approached a flight of cement stairs.

A sudden panic came over Arnold. He hadn't climbed any stairs in almost a month. Would he be able to do it?

"Uh, I don't mean to be rude, but just how much room do you have here?" Eric asked.

With this comment, the man paused, much to Arnold's relief.

"Quite a lot. There are a lot of refugees here, but it's a big building, so there's plenty of room for more. Why, there's more of you?"

"Actually, yeah."

"No problem. Are they nearby?"

"About two hours walk from here, at the toll road plaza."

"Seriously? Well, in that case, we have a van if you guys don't want to walk all the way back there. Otherwise you probably wouldn't get back before dark."

"No, that would be great."

"Alright, I'll get someone to drive one of you out if the rest want to get settled."

They all agreed that this was a good plan. The strange man called a small boy over and instructed him to fetch someone specific for him, and off the boy ran. Meanwhile, the small group ascended the stairs while talking. Arnold had no trouble at first; the pain was always bearable. But when they reached the top and he saw that, across a small threshold, there was another wide flight of stairs, he began to feel a little sick.

"It seems kind of dumb that we haven't done this yet, but what's your name?"

"Oh, sorry. Chris Huff."

Each member of the group gave his name in turn except Arnold; no one noticed.

"So how long have all these people been here?"

"The building was locked up for about a year after the first attacks in the U.S. Only one man was here when we came, so fortunately the dragons didn't bother the buildings. Me and a group of guys were actually searching for a rendezvous point and place of shelter for people because they were scattered all over the place. We were finding so many random kids walking the streets that we didn't know what to do with them. Finally we found this old college and rigged it into a type of fortress. You'll see when we get upstairs how we boarded up all the windows on the concourse with sheet metal from the workshop outback. The whole place is loaded with supplies, some useful and some not so useful."

"I don't know," Gerald piped up, "these days anything can be useful."

"Well said." Chris said with a little smile. "Anyway, the whole place is built with cinder blocks around steal supports, so it's practically impenetrable. We think it might have been originally constructed as a bomb shelter or something because half of it is underground."

"Like that hallway downstairs?" Misha asked.

"Exactly."

"Hey Arnold, you ok, man?" Gerald asked, noticing the gray pallor of his friends face and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Arnold waved Gerald's comment away. "Yeah…I'm fine."

Gerald raised an eye but didn't comment. Misha, on the other hand, did. "Are you sure, Arnold? You don't look too good."

"I said I'm fine." Arnold said, his tone just slightly sharp.

At that moment a young man with a large, curly brown afro approached them with an easy smile on his face.

"Hey, Chris. Someone said you needed me."

"Yeah, we've got some new guests."

The young man smiled and introductions were made, and the awkwardness with Arnold was quickly forgotten.

"They've got a few more waiting for them out at that eastbound toll plaza. I need you to take Eric here and pick them up with the van."

_We have now found a new residence at an old community college on the southern border of Michigan. It is a large building that seems perfectly constructed to serve as protection against something like a dragon. The rest of the group has been transported here safely, and we immediately set plans in motion to return to the city for the others. Chris Huff, the apparent person in charge here, strongly advised us to wait until spring. When we explained our situation, however, he and his friends agreed to help us by providing gas and a vehicle to take us as far as the truck we left behind, as well as a few people from this shelter who volunteered to go with. The plan is to take gas to the truck we abandoned, and the driver of the van will pick up Aaron, Jenny and Curly and bring them back here. Eric, Gerald and Misha will be going back to the city, along with two other men. I will not be going with them. This truth is easier for me to write than to do, but though I miss my wife more than the innocence of the life we once lived, I can't in good conscience take the risk. I would be of no use to them. _


	7. Dr Kinder

Chapter 7: Dr. Kinder

A soft knock on the door of the large classroom brought Arnold's attention from his journal.

"Come in."

The knob turned and a middle-aged Asian man Arnold had never seen before poked his head in. "I'm looking for an Arnold."

"That'd be me."

The man smiled a kind-hearted smile. "A friend of yours asked me to come and talk with you. He said you were experiencing some pain."

At that, Arnold frowned. "I told him I was fine, but thanks anyway."

Unmoved by Arnold's brashness, the man stepped into the room and casually came over to where Arnold was sitting.

"He also said you wouldn't tell anybody what was wrong. He said you have trouble climbing the stairs, soyou don't leave the room too often."

Arnold couldn't help but scowl a little more, though more out of guilt at being found out than with irritation at his friend for prying.

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

"A look at what?" Arnold asked stubbornly.

"At your leg. I can tell by the way you sit that your left leg is giving you trouble."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Yes. Dr. Kinder."

Arnold's scowl faded as defeat sunk in. He nodded a submissive consent and sat motionless as the doctor carefully pulled back his left pant leg to reveal the freshly healed scars from the accident. Dr. Kinder was very gentle as he shifted Arnold's legs ever-so-slightly, examining carefully with sharp brown eyes and a careful touch.

"What happened here?" He asked.

"Motorcycle accident…and burns."

Arnold couldn't stop himself from sucking in a sudden breath when the doctor shifted his knee in certain directions.

"You were wise to avoid the stairs. Some of your bones are out of alignment, and the muscle tissue is extremely thin. Hm…"

He examined Arnold's other leg briefly, as if comparing the two.

"These burns went deep. It's a miracle you didn't get a nasty infection." Dr. Kinder continued, as if talking to himself. "How bad is the pain?"

"Not too bad." One look at the doctors eyes and Arnold knew he'd been caught lying. "I have some pain killers." He added hastily. The doctor didn't say anything. Arnold felt required to prove his honesty so he reached into his pocket and pulled out the dozen or so tiny tablets. They were covered with pocket lint, and most of their coating had chipped off. This almost made Arnold feel worse.

"How many have you taken a day?"

"I don't take them every day."

"Ok, how many have you taken in the past week?"

After a slight pause, Arnold said: "Two". This was, of course, a lie. He hadn't taken any since he 'borrowed' them from Dr. Brandon, convinced that he could handle the pain for he time being.

The doctor kneeling before him didn't look overly pleased, but whether it was because he hadn't been taking pain killers or because the sanitation of the pills themselves might have killed him, Arnold didn't know.

"Would you mind coming down to the medical building and letting me take some x-rays?"

Arnold didn't say anything. Not only did the thought of being X-rayed bother him in general, but he was rendered somewhat speechless by the fact that they even had the equipment to take X-rays.

"You don't have to right now. But I'd like to get a better look at the problem as soon as possible. The faster we find the cause, the sooner we can find out how to fix it. In the meantime," he held out his hand, "mind if I take those and bring you something stronger?"

Arnold knew that by 'stronger' he meant 'cleaner'. He dropped the disgusting lump of tablets into the doctor's hand. The Asian man smiled. It was a kind, comforting smile. Arnold was ashamed of his earlier apprehension toward the man. His intentions were kind, and he didn't seem irritated at all with Arnold's behavior. Arnold couldn't help but begin to like him a little.

Arnold sat atop the front steps of the boarding house, blowing air into a yellow balloon. He smiled to himself as he tied the knot and released it, watching it float into the air on the gentle city breeze. Somewhere behind him inside the house, Sinatra sang about the sea as the final credits of Finding Nemo played across the TV screen. Arnold knew that the kids had probably abandoned their movie before the final scene had even faded out – he could hear his daughter screaming in delight in the back yard.

He released a couple more balloons before a soft, delicate hand lighted on his shoulder, and his wife sat down beside him on the stoop. He had just finished picked up a pink balloon, and she watched with a small, attentive smile as he filled it with air, tied the knot, and handed it to her, kissing her cheek as he did so.

Her smile was so soft, so perfect, so loving. She gazed down at his gift a moment before releasing it gently. It soared slowly into the sky, and they watched contentedly for a moment before his hand came to rest upon hers. She moved closer to him and he put a strong arm around her shoulders, fastening her to him like the last two pieces of a puzzle. Her warmth filled him with lethargy, and he knew he could sit here like this all day. It wouldn't have been hard, either. His grandparents always gave them plenty of alone time if it meant they could be with the kids for a while.

Before Arnold realized it, Helga had turned her head sideways and was kissing him. He brought one hand up to her face, and from there the kiss escalated to where they probably should have moved it inside for the sake of the neighborhood kids.

"Arnold…" His wife murmured in his ear, her voice filled with passion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arnold remembered the conception of their eldest child having started somewhat like this…

"Arnold!"

In an instant, everything was gone. It was as though his wife had been sucked into oblivion in an instant's time, and he was crumpled quite alone on the front stoop of the boarding house, dark clouds rolling overhead and an ominous wind howling around him. The time between the sunny day and the sudden ripping open of a sky full of rain was lost to him.

He jumped from his seat and looked around frantically. "Helga!"

Arnold lurched foreword at the sound of someone crying loudly. It wasn't a cry of pain or sorrow, but of joy. He threw his blankets off and climbed to his feet. The classroom was empty of its other occupants, and Arnold could hear a great deal of commotion coming from somewhere in the building.

"Arnold! Someone get Arnold! Tell him Helga's here!"

Arnold wasn't quite sure he'd heard right, but it was enough set him running. He rounded the corner and descended the stairs in a fury of ecstasy.

_She's here! Helga's here!_

He pushed past people in his hurry to get to her, flying across the concourse and onto the wide flight of stairs that lead down. Before he knew what had happened, Arnold felt himself falling…

"Someone go get him, tell him-"

Arnold's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly. Still somewhat wrapped in his previous dreams, he leapt out of his makeshift bed and hurried out of the room.

"Arnold?" Max asked, having been the only other occupant of the room when Arnold left. He tossed his shirt aside and followed the blond man into the hall, concern lacing his dark features, but Arnold had already rounded the far corner and was rushing down the stairs.

_Helga! She's here! She's finally here!_

He could hear the excited commotion coming from the basement level, and was for the first time thankful for the obnoxious echo that this large building provided. He wouldn't have heard the news from his room otherwise.

"I'm coming…" He panted, lunging toward the stairs.

The instant before he fully recalled his last dream, Arnold felt an unbearable surge of pain and his leg completely gave out beneath him. Before he could even cry out, vertigo caught him and he heard the horrid crack of his knee against the cement stair before the pain caused him to black out.


	8. Back at Home

Chapter 8: Back at Home

Sara lifted the manhole lid carefully and peered out into the blinding daylight. After a moment, she slid the manhole lid to the side and climbed out, then turned to grasp the pale hand that reached up toward her.

Helga struggled to climb out of the cave and onto the street, but they managed to do it with very little noise or drama. Once out, they sat together in the center of the street, right beside the manhole. Helga leaned her weary body against the stronger of the two friends, and they sat in companionable silence, just as they did every other day.

It had become a routine that Helga had suggested soon after Arnold had left. She had done her reading and new that sunlight, clean air and fresh food were the best remedies for this disease aside from specific medicines developed in the 20th century. Adequate medicine was more than scarce these days, and fresh food was something that only existed in dreams. Though the only sunlight available was what happened to sift through the haze that covered the city, the sulfuric air was far better than the filth that they breathed in the tunnels. Yes, the sewers had been running clean for a long time, but they'd recently stopped running entirely. This being added to the already disgusting living conditions caused people to fall sicker faster, and Helga was determined to survive no matter how many people died around her.

So many had died already.

After sitting for a moment, the two girls were joined by Mrs. Freyermuth, who carried Lupita up with her. When the middle-aged woman had discovered what the girls had been doing in secret, she'd insisted that she accompany them for the sake of Gerald's baby. The children had been suffering the worst of the epidemic. Dropping like flies, as Helga would have once termed it. Not now, though. Now it was not a joke.

_Please God_, she prayed inwardly, _if You're really up there, why is this happening? Are we not supposed to survive? God, please…help us…bring them back…I've waited so long…bring Arnold back to me…please…_

A horrendous cry shot suddenly from the medical room. Each person sitting in the hallway gave a start, but none rose from their places standing against the wall. Jenny clasped Curly's arm, but her eyes turned to Aaron against the far wall and he proceeded to sign to her what had made them all jump. She turned her gaze to Curly, who did not look at her but instead rested his free hand atop hers.

They, along with Weitman an Evalyn, had been waiting for hours to hear what the doctor had to say about Arnold. No one knew what had happened, only that Arnold had come barreling down the stairs and fell, and he was now lying unconscious in the school's medical lab turned hospital with the resident doctor examining his leg.

At least, Arnold _had been_ unconscious. Another cry ripped through the hall, followed by countless other quieter ones that were tight with attempted self-control. They waited in agony for the doctor, or someone, to come out and tell them what had happened. Finally, someone did. The Asian doctor stepped gingerly through the open door and closed it behind him, muffling the sounds from inside. They all looked at him expectantly. At first, the doctor stood there silently, contemplating how best to say what he was about to.

"Arnold has severely damaged his left leg," he said at last, "He…may not be able to use it again."

A stunned silence overshadowed them for a moment before Curly finally spoke.

"But what happened? How did he fall?"

"I couldn't ask him specifically, he's in far too much pain right now to answer any questions. My best guess is that he just came down the stairs too fast, what with his leg already being damaged the way it was."

"But…didn't you look at it?" Curly asked, almost accusingly. Dr. Kinder did not appear offended.

"Yes, he did eventually consent to let me look at it and give him some medication, but I couldn't get him to come down and let me do a thorough examination. He said he was going to, but he kept avoiding it. In fact, he was avoiding stairs almost entirely until yesterday."

"Well, was he taking the medication?"

"He said he was, but I don't know."

Curly seemed to be fuming for a moment. Then suddenly he wrenched away from Jenny, whirled around and struck a pitcher of water that was sitting on a nearby table with the cane he was still using to walk. He swore loudly, walking a few feet away from the group.

"Why didn't he tell anybody!? Why!?" He shouted to no one.

The rest of the group kept their distance, and Aaron turned to Dr. Kinder. "Will he ever be able to walk again?"

The doctor sighed. "I don't know."

"What's your best guess?" The shorter man asked, though not with a demanding tone, but a trusting one. Aaron was looking for a sign of hope, not indefinate answers.

"He may walk again, but not without help. And it will take time."

Aaron nodded his understanding. Time was something they were not lacking in.

"Can we see him?" Evalyn asked. There were tears in her eyes.

"I wouldn't advise it just yet. He's still in a lot of pain and perhaps even shock. I couldn't really give him a clear diagnosis, but I think he knows."

Evalyn gave a small, almost silent sob and clung to her husband.

**A/N: **Ok, I know this was a short chapter, but the this story will be complete and uploaded very soon - I'd say within the next week at least.


	9. Holding On

Chapter 9: Holding On

A/N: Ok, I know it was suggested that I incorporate The Sewer King into the story somehow, but I couldn't manage to figure out a good way to do it without mucking up the story and making it way longer than it needs to be. As it stands now my only goal is to finish it because I've got so many others that I'm working on (when I'm not doing schoolwork). Anyway, my apologies. If it helps, the story is starting to wrap up. Not much farther to go now.

_There was an accident about a week ago, and it looks like I've permanently injured my leg. The doctor here doesn't know if I'll walk again, but he seems hopeful. They all seem hopeful, but I can't find it in me to share their hope. I'm just so tired. So very tired. And I miss my wife so much. _

**Arnold set the journal down and stood carefully from the aging desk chair. Taking a wooden cane in his left hand, he made his way quite fluently to the deep-set window on the far side of the small room, the cane aiding his half-usable leg. He looked out into the yard and saw Curly playing with his three-year-old daughter in the shade of the building. They were stacking wooden blocks together. Arnold smiled at the sight. **

**_You did walk again_, he told himself, not for the first time, since he'd regained the ability. _You learned to walk, and she accepted you as you were, just like last time._ **

**His heart wrenched painfully within his chest, and he had to turn away from the window. When he did, though, he was startled to find Lupita standing in the doorway of the room. **

"**Oh, hi sweetheart." He greeted. **

"**Uncle Arnold, dad wants to know if you're coming to dinner. He said he can handle Robbie if you're busy." **

**Arnold could never quite get over how mature Lupita was for being only twelve years old. _But then_, he always told himself, _how old where you when you had to become a man?_**

"**No, I'll be down in a minute." He said. **

**The little girl smiled before leaving, and Arnold crossed over to the desk and closed the journal, storing it back in its place on the shelf. Memories could wait until later. Especially these memories. Right now he had a three-year-old to control.**

**  
**

Arnold swore loudly, and Curly was half-tempted to drop him out of spite.

"Will you knock that off, there are innocent ears here." Curly warned.

Arnold only glowered at him, ignoring the stares of two children who were watching from across the room. The two men were currently practicing walking back and forth across the concourse. Arnold had started insisting on this after only five weeks of being bed ridden, which Dr. Kinder thought was too early but did not dissuade him. The more willing Arnold was to recover, the better. However, after only a few days, he was not having the best luck, and it was beginning to show.

"Oh, for God's sake, forget it! Take me back upstairs!" Arnold snapped, and Curly dropped him unceremoniously onto the floor. "Hey!"

The taller man backed out of harms way and stood with his arms crossed, looking darkly down at Arnold. He'd been walking without since just after Arnold's accident. "You're not going to quit."

"I'm not quitting, I'm just tired!"

"You've only gone back and forth once. If you ever want to walk again, you have to be patient. It's not going to happen overnight."

"I _know_ that, Curly, just help me up."

Curly did not move. Arnold looked down at the floor, his pride outweighing his guilt over being such a jerk. After a very long while, he mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Curly asked.

"I said I'm sorry. I…shouldn't be snapping at you like that."

Curly's features softened and he knelt beside his friend. "Arnold, you've just got to give yourself time." After a brief pause, he added: "Helga will still love you whether you can walk or not."

At this, Arnold looked up at his friend to find him smiling reassuringly. Curly stood and helped Arnold back onto his feet, and together they practiced walking back and forth across the wide expanse of the concourse, fresh determination driving Arnold on.


	10. The Beginnings of Everyman

A/N: I do not own A Charlie Brown Christmas, A Christmas Story or the Bible. Or, of course, any of the characters from Hey Arnold or the show itself. I only own all of my own characters and, though I doubt anyone would want to, they may not be used without my express permission.

Chapter 10: The Beginnings of Everyman

In the foyer at the front of the building was a bench. It sat against the right-hand wall, had no back or arms, and was bolted to the floor. It was upon this bench that Arnold now sat, alone, staring listlessly through the plexiglas double doors and into the warm afternoon horizon. It was early November now, but still strangely warm outside. Arnold's wheelchair sat directly beside him, empty. He hated sitting in it – far too confining. Having to rely on it just to get around by himself made him feel trapped, almost claustrophobic. Thank God Aaron and Weitman had been so helpful or he never would have made it downstairs to look out the windows.

The entirety of the concourse was lined with windows, but they were all covered with sheets of metal. Most of the classrooms had windows, but the views from them were painfully lacking and the rooms themselves belonged to other people. Arnold wanted to be alone, which was often the case whenever he wasn't exercising his legs.

The view from the front door wasn't exactly pristine, but Arnold would never admit that. There was actually one room on the third level of the east wing that offered a full, wide view of the parking lot, the surrounding woods, the single-lane road leading to the main road, and the fields beyond, but Arnold didn't like that room. It was too high up for his comfort and it would have taken him far too long to get from there to the front door where he now sat quite comfortably. From here he could see the parking lot and the road that would bring travelers to the building.

Yes, it was the perfect spot to wait from, and Arnold knew it.

Sometimes Arnold felt that if he thought long and hard enough he could reach Helga's mind like they used to do in books and movies. He remembered hearing somewhere that some people are born with a special link and that when one feels something strongly enough, the other feels it too. Of course, Arnold was sure whoever had said it had been talking about family relations, like twins or something. But perhaps…

_Helga_…he said earnestly in his mind. A weight sat deep inside his heart, as though his time were running out…_Helga, hurry. Come back to me…_

_Christmas is here and there's been no sign of our group. It was deduced that they either bunkered down in the city to wait out the winter or were lost along the way. I pray to God for the former-_

Arnold paused in his writing. Why had he said that?

For some odd reason he would never fully understand, Arnold wondered for the first time who this man was whom he sometimes prayed to. Was there really some big guy up there watching over him – watching over Helga – dispatching guardian angels to those in need?

No, He did more than that, didn't He?

The more Arnold let his mind dwell on question after question that he never knew he never knew the answers to, the more determined he became to find those answers. He wished Dr. Brandon was there; surely he of all people would have the answers. Brandon believed in this God with a faith Arnold had never seen before. It was different from those young Youth for Christ representatives that had come to their school once a long time ago. This faith Dr. Brandon had, he lived.

And Sara – oh, how Arnold missed them both – Sara lived it, too. They weren't perfect Christians or anything; they made mistakes. They were normal, finite people just like everyone else. And what's more, they didn't push their religion on others. In fact, they hardly talked about it. They just _lived_ it. That was different.

A fresh longing for the return of his wife and friends enveloped Arnold as he sat there with his notepad laying abandoned in his lap. These questions and curiosities plagued his mind now, and he knew that his coming friends would have the answers. And then suddenly it dawned on him. As he was dwelling on thoughts of his friends he recalled their parting back in the city and the book Dr. Brandon had given him. A Bible. Surely that would have answers.

Arnold's notepad fell to the floor as he bent to retrieve his back pack. Now settled at the school and in his own living space once more, he didn't keep much in the old bag. But beneath a few other things rested the doctors old worn Bible.

Arnold pulled it out and opened it before realizing with a sinking dismay that he hadn't the first idea where to begin. For such a large book, the print was very small and each book within was broken down into many sections and full of numbers and references. Arnold tried reading a few random portions of it, but in the end all he got was upset.

With a frustrated snarl the Bible went over the arm of the wheel chair and landed unceremoniously on top of his back pack.

It wasn't until Christmas day that Arnold got his first glimpse of the Bible that actually made sense. Very few, if any, gifts were exchanged among the people at the refuge. But there was a small, sparsely decorated evergreen tree set up on the concourse and everybody gathered around this on Christmas morning to sing and listen to a Christmas story. Arnold didn't know what Christmas story they were talking about – perhaps a reenacted version of that movie he'd seen once about the boy and his rifle – but he really enjoyed Christmas carols (whether he sang with them or not – singing did not strike his fancy much these days), so he came.

After some songs were sung everything quieted down a bit and some people started leaving. Forgetting about the aforementioned story and thinking it was time to leave, Arnold started moving his chair.

"You're not staying for the story?" Curly asked from where he sat on the floor beside Arnold's chair, Jenny settled next to him.

"Oh, yeah." Arnold repositioned his chair, wondering why so many people were leaving, mostly adults. He looked foreword toward the tree to see Jordan, the young man with the bushy brown afro of hair, seating himself in a somewhat tall chair with a book in his hands.

Arnold was tempted to ask Curly what the story was about and how long it would be, since Jordan's book looked fairly large. He didn't get a chance though, because as soon as people were resettled Jordan flipped to a page near the center of the book and began reading.

"And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered…"

One of Arnold's eyebrows voluntarily went up in puzzlement. What kind of Christmas story was this? A Roman myth? He didn't dare leave. Something told him that people would be insulted if he left while Jordan was still reading. He glanced around to see that a few people looked bored, one or two looked just as puzzled as he, but most looked fairly interested. Arnold turned his attention back to the story when something familiar caught his ear.

"…And behold an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were so afraid. Then the angel said unto them "fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people…"

Arnold recognized the story now. He'd heard it a couple times as a child when he was able to catch A Charlie Brown Christmas on tv. This was Linus' speech that he made on the stage with the spotlight and all that, after Charlie asked if anybody knew what Christmas was all about.

All at once it dawned on him. Jordan was reading the Bible, and it was actually making some sense to him. This was the story of the birth of the Jesus. Arnold knew that story if only because of that old cartoon and all the makeshift mangers that different churches in the city used to put in front of their buildings during Christmas time. Arnold had always known the story and hadn't ever given it a great deal of thought. But then, what did Jesus have to do with God? Anything? Somewhere there was a connection, but Arnold didn't know where. He listened intently now as Jordan finished the story, trying to soak in as much as possible and get a deeper picture than what lay on the surface. He wasn't able to glean more than what the words told, however, and felt somewhat disappointed as the people around him shuffled about and returned to whatever they'd been doing before.

For a while Arnold didn't move, just sat in his chair staring at his hands, deep in thought.

"Hey Arnold, you ok?" Curly asked.

Arnold looked up at him and smiled falsely. "Yeah. I just…miss Helga, I guess."

Curly smiled a soft, sad smile. His hand was linked with Jenny's.

"I know, man." He said. "They'll be here eventually. Eric knows how to take care of people."

Arnold's smile was small, but genuine this time. He appreciated Curly's words of encouragement.

"I know. Thanks, Curly."

Afterhis friend left, Arnold rolled his chair a few feet in the direction of the stairs and then spotted Jordan out of the corner of his eye. He was walking toward the stairs himself.

"Hey, Jordan!" Arnold called out, rolling the chair a little faster to catch up with him.

Jordan's smile was bright as he greeted him. "Hi, Arnold. How you doin' these days?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess." Arnold said casually.

"Better than that, from what I hear. Need help up the stairs, do you?"

"Actually, yeah, but that wasn't what I stopped you for."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. See…" Arnold hesitated, trying to organize what he desired into a coherent question. "I wondered if you might…explain that story to me a little more. Or maybe…could you…help me understand the Bible? I have a lot of questions about it, and I have a Bible of my own that a friend gave me but it's really hard to read because it doesn't make a lot of sense. I mean, the story of Jesus is in the Bible, but what does that have to do with God? I don't-"

"Whoa, slow down, there, shotgun. One question at a time." Jordan said, chuckling a little. It was not a derogatory laugh by any means, but a good natured one. Jordan didn't seemed perturbed in the least that Arnold, someone he barely knew, was asking him all these questions.

"To answer your first question: Sure, I can try to explain the story better. That translation I had is a little difficult to grasp if you're new to it, an NIV version would be better."

"NIV?" Arnold was entirely confused.

"New International Version. It's a more recent translation. Do you know what version your Bible is?"

Arnold shook his head.

"Ok. Well, it doesn't matter that much, I suppose. Were you wanting to look at it now or another time?"

"Um…well, if you're not busy-"

"No, not at all!" He said, smiling reassuringly. He smiled a lot, Arnold noted.

Once they were in Arnold's room that he shared with the other guys, Jordan sat down with him and opened the Bible back to the story of Jesus' birth. He read it again, explaining in more detail what it all meant. He showed Arnold the footnotes and side notes all over the book, all the hand-written notes and markings put there by the doctor, presumably, and explained to Arnold that his was a New King James Study Bible, hence so many different confusing references and such. He told Arnold to ignore most of them for now, as well as a lot of the confusing questions he had concerning God. The answers to those would come in time, he said – for now it would be easier to start with the basics.

Just as he finished explaining this to Arnold a bit, a young boy knocked on the door.

"Jordan, Chris wants you." He said, referring to the man in charge.

"Can he wait?" Jordan asked.

"He didn't say. He's working out back in the shop."

With a sigh, Jordan stood. "I'll be right back, is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem!" Arnold said. After the other man had left, Arnold pulled the open Bible onto his lap and looked at the confusing pages a moment. _Start with the basics_… Well, there was only one basic way Arnold knew how to read a book. He slipped his hand beneath the cover and flipped the book closed, then pulled it open again to the first page. Skimming past the preface and reference guide and all manner of other things, he finally stopped at the beginning of the first book of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, and began to read.


	11. God on My Side

**A/N: **I finally realized why the switches in time in this story are so hard to follow. Stupif text server doesn't recognize the characters that I use to mark the switches. Grr...Sorry about that. Anyway, the stories almost done. Just for the record, I know I mentioned this in the last story (Arnold's Flight) but the regular text is the flashback, the text in Italics is the writing in the journal, and the Bold text is present day.

Chapter 11: God on My Side

_Now it is March. I have not written much over these past months because there has been nothing to write. I am progressively getting better and have now acquired a cane to replace my crutches. It gives me a great sense of comfort to know I can move about without aid now, and I am confident that Helga will be pleased with my progress. I miss her so. Over the months I've also been studying Dr. Brandon's Bible a bit more with the help of Jordan Reynolds. He has been able to answer many of my questions about God and His Son, Jesus. It is all very interesting. I've never been a consciously religious person until I realized that my prayers were being sent to a God I did not know and could not see. I'm beginning to know Him now, I think. I cannot see Him, but I'm getting to know Him more through the book Brandon gave me and through Jordan's helpful insight. Whether I decide that this religion is for me or not, it is always wise to know who you're praying to, I think. _

**Arnold skimmed through the next page or two of the journal, amazed at how much he'd written about the beginnings of his Christianity when, at the time, he hadn't even a glimpse of what it really meant to 'know' God. **

**What a wonderful friend Jordan had become to him during those months, he remembered, smiling fondly to himself. He rarely became depressed when he thought about his old friend, taken only a year ago by pneumonia. It had been a small epidemic that time, not nearly as bad as in previous years, and only claimed two lives – Jordan's, and that of what would have been Sara's first child. Sara fell hard with the illness and lost the child at five months along. It had been a girl., and the loss had been hard for Sara to bear.  
**

**Arnold shook his head and turned back to his reading. Sara hadn't let her sadness over the incident overtake her, and he wouldn't either. She would have another soon, after all. **

Arnold was sitting in the front entranceway reading his Bible when two things happened at once. First, he hadn't heard Max running hard down the hallway before he burst through the door and shouted "They're here!"

At the same time, Arnold had just looked up when he caught a motion in his peripheral vision and saw a beat-up, green army truck edging slowly around the corner and into the parking lot. His heart stopped.

_Helga…_

He stood, grabbing his cane. Max was already holding the door open for him as Misha, Curly, and many others were coming fast down the hall behind them.

Arnold's feet hit the pavement outside and he had to fight against every nerve in his body that was screaming at him to run to her. In his heart, he desperately wanted to, but in his head he knew it wouldn't be wise. What if he fell and injured himself further?

The truck sputtered a bit as it made its way laboriously down the parking lot lane. Then it jerked a bit and stopped, still countless feet from the building. They had coasted into the parking lot on fumes, appearantly. The driver, Eric, climbed out of the front cab along with the three others crammed in beside him. That was all the cue Arnold needed. His heart would not let him stand there idle for another moment and he gripped his cane tightly, hurrying across the pavement to the best of his ability. He hadn't dared attempt any manner of running since the accident, but with his focus on his goal alone, he practically soared across the pavement.

"Arnold?" Max said worriedly, hurrying to catch up with him. Arnold ignored him and kept going, so Max simply trailed at his side as though waiting until he might be needed. His behavior was somewhat more attentive than usual, but Arnold hardly noticed.

He especially failed to notice at that moment, for the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on descended from the passenger side of the truck, with the help of a very disheveled-looking Misha. Before her feet touched the pavement, Helga was moving toward Arnold. Her stride was slow but purposeful, and she was crying. Her eyes barely shifted to take in his condition as she went to him, and he felt his heart swell within his chest. He never doubted that she wouldn't take him as he was now, but it still filled him with a sense of pride like nothing else.

"Arnold..."

In a matter of seconds he had her in his arms – first one arm, then both as his cane dropped to the ground and he balanced on one leg, holding her fiercely to him. They were both weak, unstrudy, but supported each other perfectly. People moved about around them, others came out to greet the newcomers, but for the longest of moments Arnold and Helga were alone in the world. The parking lot was empty, the last traces of snow melted away and the sun was shining. And Arnold's wife was in his arms at last – right where she belonged.

Once the reality of finally being together again had sunk in, and they were sure that letting go would not result in the sudden end of the dream, they both instinctively pulled back just far enough to kiss fervently, a longsuffering hunger satisfied at last.

Max had backed away a few paces from all the joyful people, watching intently as the scene played itself out. Misha, looking exhausted, circled around the back and assisted one child, then another, and a third, before reaching in and helping Sara down from the truck, his hands around her waist as he eased her to the ground. She looked horribly tired, visibly more pale and thin than the last time Max had seen her. It was the consumption – all of the ill ones looked that way, but somehow Sara managed to look worse. Max knew why, knew her well enough to know she probably hadn't slept or eaten much on the trip. She'd most likely given any comforts of her own to those three children Misha had helped out of the truck a moment ago. It was her way, he knew. A servant to the end.

Max took in every movement, every touch, every detail as Misha lifted the smaller child and supported him with one arm, then picked up another, while Sara took the other child's hand. All three children looked as exhausted as Misha and Sara did. One of the people from the school rushed up then, welcoming them and insisting on helping carry the children inside. Misha reluctantly passed one of them to the woman, and Max watched with a sinking sensation as the curly-haired man reached down with his free hand and linked his fingers with Sara's. They walked slowly toward the building together, children in tow.

Sara didn't see Max, didn't realize that he was watching with an overwhelming sense of guilt and disappointment. He'd sought wordless confirmation, and he'd recieved it. He knew his heartache was his own doing. He'd hurt her once, given her up to follow his own selfish pursuits – and he'd waited too long to try and win her back.

He watched their retreating backs for a moment before turning to the group of people before him. He used to love helping people the way Sara did, used to love serving. He'd lost the desire somewhere along the way, until recently. Until Arnold's accident, in fact. Serving himself had brought him nothing but loneliness.

A little girl, maybe seven years old, stood looking bewildered as people hurried about around her. Someone told her to follow them, and she obeyed on wobbly legs. Max strode over to her, and she stopped and looked at him.

"Would you like me to carry you?" He asked, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt. The little girl stared at him, looking as though she would refuse the help. Eventually she nodded, and he held out his arms to her. She climbed into them, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck just enough to hold on, at first. After he'd walked a few steps her grip tightened and her head rested against his shoulder.

The taller man's grip on the little girl tightened almost without his consent as his heart grew heavy inside him. In a brief moment of revelation he realized that this was a moment of redemption for him – one of many that would have to follow before he felt whole again – this was Sara in his arms. He could be for this little girl, and anyone else who needed it, what he hadn't been to Sara: A protector, a supporter...a friend.

It seemed to Arnold like the remainder of that afternoon was passed through a haze. He could remember little, the place buzzed so with excitement and commotion. Gerald had found him almost directly after Helga did, his little Lupita balanced on his hip. He hugged his best friend fiercely. Not long after that first truck had pulled in, another followed. It was also an army truck, perhaps one they'd failed to notice before among the reckage. These were the only two, though, packed full with people, all that were left.

Sara and Misha had found Arnold during some point in the day, as had Dr. Brandon MacNamara, but Arnold couldn't clearly recall when. Only little bits and pieces of activity remained in his mind between the moment he and Helga were finally reunited and that night, as things quieted down immensely.

He couldn't remember when he'd discovered that all his things had been moved from the room he shared with the other men to that far room at the end of the hall with the greatest view. Max had done it during some point in the day at Gerald's request – Gerald himself was a far too preoccupied with his 18-month-old.

Helga hadn't brought much, but a bed had been made for her on the floor beside Arnold's.

The blond man eased himself onto the bedding, his cane left to stand against the far wall by the door, which was closed. Helga bent to help him, though both knew he hardly needed it by this point. She was still holding one of his arms when he'd touched the floor, and was instantly down beside him when he took both her arms and brought her there. What followed after that was more than inevitable. No words were spoken - none needed to be spoken. Finally together, finally sure that it would remain that way, and driven by a passion that had been far too long in hibernation, the two young people shared a night that should have been shared almost a year ago.

**Arnold sighed, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose. That day, the moment he'd held Helga in his arms once more, had been one of the most blessed moments in his life. The conception and birth of each of his children were close runners-up. He folded the book and put it back on its shelf with his few other books. **

"**Helga…" He whispered her name in the quiet of the room, his children fast asleep on the bed they shared. His five-year-old twins, Leopold and Philip, and his youngest son Robbie. His seven-year-old daughter Charlotte slept in the next room over with Lupita and Curly's older daughter, Katie. He sighed again, "…I miss you so much…"**

**There was a stir, and Leopold shifted on the edge of the bed. His eyes opened and he peered at his father under thick lashes. **

"**Daddy?" It was a barely discernable mumble, but Arnold heard it and rose instantly from his chair. He never let his handicap keep him from his children even in the smallest of cases. **

"**I can't sleep…" The youth mumbled again, oblivious to the fact that he'd just been sleeping soundly. **

"**Sure you can, buddy. Close your eyes, now." Arnold said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and stroking his son's fine blond hair. Within seconds of his closing eyes, the child's breathing became a regular pattern once more and he was asleep. Arnold knew he should get to bed himself, considering the late hour, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the bedside just yet. They were so beautiful, his children. It had taken him a long time to dismiss the belief that Helga's death was the price they'd had to pay in order to have such fine, healthy children. Both Dr. Brandon and Dr. Kinder had reassured him, from a medical perspective, that bearing children had not been a danger to Helga. They'd had their doubts at first and had monitored her carefully during her pregnancy with Charlotte. But after a successful delivery they were convinced that having children was a perfectly suitable thing to do. It was the consumption that had finally taken her from him. **

**An outbreak of pneumonia, to be exact. All those who'd taken ill with the consumption in the city were forever weakened in the body. It never really went away, it just became less severe with the proper nourishment and surroundings. There were only a handful of people left now who'd caught the consumption. **

**Helga's death three years ago, right after Robbie was born, had been nearly impossible for Arnold to bear. At that time he'd already accepted Christ into his life, as had Helga. But after her death, Arnold had blamed God, his children, and any other force he thought might have had a hand in dealing him such a cruel blow. It had taken months for him to recover, to speak to people, any people, and to go back to his children and learn to love them again. Just looking at them reminded him of his wife. **

**It still amazed him how forgiving children could be, specifically Charlotte, who was the only one that was really old enough to remember. She'd welcomed him back with open arms and a hug that melted his heart, and hadn't mentioned his relapse at all since then. He gazed upon his three sons for the longest while before finally rising to his feet. He didn't even bother changing his clothes and climbing into bed. He knew he'd never get to sleep and so decided to walk around a bit. He'd have to be careful, he knew, because his cane could make a bit of noise. **

**He was surprised to find Sara sitting down on the concourse alone, the large room just barely lit. He went over and sat beside her and was glad he'd come out for a walk, for he could sense instantly that all was not well. Sara was sitting with her legs drawn up, her arms wrapped around them and her face hidden from view. Her body language indicated something like a desire to cave in on oneself.  
**

"**Hey." He said as he sat. The look on the woman's face when she lifted her head confirmed his suspicion, for her face was red and pale at the same time and streaked with hot tears. **

"**Hey? Sara, what is it?" Arnold asked, one hand going instantly to her shoulder in deep empathy. **

"**Arnold…" She said, her voice a quiet sob, hardly audible. "I lost it. I lost the baby…"**

**Arnold's stomach suddenly felt hollow. They'd found out only four weeks ago that she was pregnant again. **

"**Oh, Sara. I'm so sorry." And he was, indescribably so, for she and Misha been trying for another child ever since the death of their first one. **

"**When? Does Misha know yet?" **

**Sara shook her head, pulling her legs closer to her. "About an hour ago…" And with that, the flood gates were released once more and the heartbroken woman dropped her head into the nest of her folded arms, sobbing silently with unparalleled grief. Arnold put one arm around her shoulders and drew her to him a bit, sharing in her sorrow, for they were both mourning someone this night. **

**Arnold didn't bother trying to think of something to say that might help; he knew there could be no words to comfort a grieving mother – almost mother. She hadn't actually reached that point yet, the goal of her heart to have children of her own. Curly-haired children that looked just like her husband. **

**_Dear God_, Arnold prayed inside, _help us now. Help us bear these losses. Please, God, give Sara the children she so desperately wants…_He could think of no more to say. He didn't understand why this had happened, why the God who proclaimed to love them would let them suffer thus. Arnold no longer blamed God for Helga's death – he felt that blaming God for his suffering was in some way a cop-out. He couldn't explain why. This world they lived in, this dragon-infested hell was only temporary. Someday he'd see Helga again, and Sara would hold both of her lost children in her arms. **

**Arnold wasn't aware of when it had started, but somewhere during the train of his thoughts and prayers he'd begun to sing. It was very quiet, bassy, not altogether smooth or flawless. The words faded in and out of audibility, but they were there, the words to the first worship song Jordan had taught him. **

"**When peace like a river attendeth my way,**

**When sorrows like sea billows blow; **

**Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,**

**It is well, it is well with my soul…" **

**Arnold knew they would be alright. Both of them, and their families. The world around then was gray and full of sadness, but here within these stone walls was a community of people who would take care of each other, support each other, laugh and mourn together, grow together and die together. They would go on, outlast the enemy. **

**Arnold knew this. Knew that he had God on his side and friends all around him. **

**He knew he would be ok, and that was all he needed. **


End file.
